The Words are Marching

The Words are Marching

I wrote a hundred thousand words
I tossed them in the air
I wrote them in a coma
I wrote them on the stare
I tried to keep the words down
With chicken soup and ginger ale
But gypsy curses and wandering street light people
Threw my words like cookies
Back out of me and I brayed them
From the steeples
I thought that eventually
They would be picked clean
When I hung around at rookeries
But it was not to be
A million words came marching
And jumped right out of my cerebellum
Not caring a dash about what happened to me

Words are thoughtless creatures
Even when used thoughtfully
Marauding little beasts
They have complete control over me
Sometimes they pick my hands up
Even when I’m sleeping
And ghostlike pluck the keyboard
Into unknown symphonies
The words are coming from the rafters
They live in the crannies in the walls
They live in desperate lovers
They make the weak tremble and fall
They make the strong the same if they’re not careful

The words are marching out of me
Brazen creatures they! Coming out of my hands, my mouth my eyes
And yet you make them say to you as you would have them speak
That’s the way they like it
Making wind
Tornadoes swooping down on landscapes
Leaving ruin
Or bringing us to brand new worlds
The choice is theirs
It isn’t up to me or you

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